


Decisions and consequences

by Knit1298



Series: Adam was special [3]
Category: Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Drama, M/M, Post-Canon, Recovery, Secrets, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 09:48:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22714099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knit1298/pseuds/Knit1298
Summary: “You are going to move in with me for the time being.”The words were out before Jim even really realised it, not managing at all to make it sound like the order it was supposed to be, finalising the decision the meeting with Manderley and the Czech had made him do. When they had discussed the status of one of his best agents, when achievements, record and the at best flimsy accusations hadn't mattered, when Aug had been all what counted. Jim was no psychologist but gods, who would get the idea, placing Adam into the cells of TF29 now would do anything good?
Relationships: Adam Jensen & Jim Miller, Adam Jensen/Jim Miller
Series: Adam was special [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1425499
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is what happens when you are on a long trip with the train close to Valentine's Day and are browsing through your drabbles and unfinished ideas and suddenly inspiration hits.  
> For the record I do like Mac, but playing MD that one Czech police officer warning Adam to be careful, those IDs/credentials potentially not saving him for much longer, started an avenue of 'What if' and there just had to be someone leaving Adam hanging.  
> Since it is Valentine's Day, I posted both endings, the more left open one and the happy one.

TF29 Central Europe Division Director James 'Jim' Miller had to put in quite the effort to at least keep a calm exterior, knowing to lose his temper again wouldn't help the situation at all. It hadn't really helped back when he had shouted at Mac either, except for essentially stopping himself from getting physically violent against a man he had used to call friend. Watching Agent Jensen cautiously stepping into the room now, was making it incredibly difficult though. Looking like having aged by years instead of weeks and after all those month since London, that subtle tension in those carbon fibre shoulders was back and just too visible to Jim. The too obvious distrust against people, the over-alertness trying to track everyone’s movements, that brittle composure, barely able to hide how much the American had suffered here.  
The looks the Czech threw towards his agent really made him wanting to punch them out of their faces.  
_Christ! Mac, what have you done?_

Closeness generally wasn't something Adam was comfortable with, avoiding touch, the personal space he maintained always a bit bigger than most other people Jim knew. There weren't many people who'd shake an Aug's hand these days in the first place, but Jensen wasn't eager to offer it either.  
This reservation now, that carefully upheld distance, was all too familiar. Yet never before had the man shied away like this. Gracefully and coincidentally moving out of the way, sidestepping in just the right moment, yes, but not this way too obvious flinching. And not from Jim usually, at least not since London. It had pretty much stunned the director when one day, he had realised, he was the only one to touch the agent. Never really having lost much thought over those small gestures before, over placing his hand on the man's arm, or at the shoulder. Like he had done at the VTOL, right before landing at the APEX Centre, the scene just coming back into his mind so vividly clear.  
“Adam?” he gently asked, slowly retracting the arm offered for support at that too odd stumble. Christ, it had been months since the Aug had given him that sort of silent treatment, since he kept those inner walls up that damn high. In the attempt of not to crowd the man, Jim recognised too late, Jensen no longer answering after they had gotten into the car was something else.

Later he’d have no idea how he managed to drive to Precaska and that old book shop, the bills for Adam's aug maintenance usually were sent from. How he and that small Czech punk of a mechanic were able to carry the tall agent down into that dungeon underground clinic.  
All Jim would remember, the curses of the eccentric aug mechanic had rivalled Mac's on his best/worst days. Those diagnosis screens had held way too much red, too many warnings, blinking aggressively at him, making his blood run cold. That quickly bared chest being plastered with bruises and too many scars new to the doctor. Some of them weirdly shaped, more burn mark than-, electric prods Jim had recognised angrily and Christ, damn strong ones.  
The hissed explanations about that blocking chip State police had installed in Adam's head and not bothered to take out at release, the words were barely registering with Jim next to the shock over those pained grunts and that broken expression the agent's artificial eyes had shown when the tinted glasses had been retracted. Fear and horror, the trembling of what always had seemed so steady.  
_Damn you Mac, what were you thinking!_

“You are going to move in with me for the time being.”  
The words were out before Jim even really realised it, not managing at all to make it sound like the order it was supposed to be, finalising the decision the meeting with Manderley and the Czech had made him do. When they had discussed the status of one of his best agents, when achievements, record and the at best flimsy accusations hadn't mattered, when Aug had been all what counted. Jim was no psychologist but gods, who would get the idea, placing Adam into the cells of TF29 now would do anything good?  
“Are you volunteering to take the full responsibility for Jensen?” Manderley had asked Jim with that odd creepy smile, when he had been arguing against (the insanity of) their plans. His answer still would be the same, if that meant that this man at least would get a chance to recover from this.  
Somewhere in the deep of his guts, it had felt like some sort of trap, some ambush, but seeing Adam desperately trying to hold onto to some resemblance of normalcy while walking through the rundown quarter to the agent's apartment under the eyes of damn state police, Jim knew he'd do it again any time. 

Ever since London, the director had been struggling to keep things professional yet casual, struggled even more so now, for not make things more weird than they already were, quickly explaining about the Czech having rescinded most of Jensen's permits, that the agent no longer was allowed to walk through Prague on his own.  
All good and real reasons. But the truth was he simply hadn’t been able to leave Adam to what otherwise would have awaited him. 

Judging from the concerned look Miller threw at him, the question had been asked at least once before without him hearing it, inside the apartment it was no longer anger tinted but now the familiar calm, non-judgemental voice of the Australian, still it was just barely piercing through the numbness Adam felt.  
“Sure you don't want to take this with you? Chang and Fletcher are working on proving you did nothing wrong, but there is no way to tell when we'll get you your status back.”  
Leashed. Bound. Cornered. Controlled. They finally had him. Having to be around a superior all the time, under constant supervision, 24/7, for not to be thrown back into a cell or something worse.  
_Cold. Laughter. The low click of another cursed remote. Nothing but pain, burning white inside his skull, around his neck._  
Only the fact that it was Jim there with him kept him from trying to run immediately. To flee.  
And the ugly truth that there was no place to hide anyway. None where they wouldn't find him eventually; where, declared deserter, traitor or fugitive, he wouldn't endanger others.  
_Trapped, there was no way out!_

In the end Jim simply grabbed what he thought was needed of the clockmaking equipment, shoved it into a box while the agent was collecting stuff from the bathroom. Imagining Adam’s hands working with those tiny cogwheels was weird, but the worktable and tools had looked well used enough to suspect it was an often indulged hobby. There was no way to tell how long this whole crap show might go on and at some point, Adam would need something to occupy himself with at Jim's apartment, even though, with all these books here, his bookshelves might hold the agent's interest too.  
He next left for the kitchen to check the contents of the fridge and to give Adam some space and time to himself, sensing the desperate struggle the man had with his own mind again, being too damn close to shutting down completely once more.  
The only time the old Jensen sort of peeked out of this awfully empty shell walking behind him was when that arms dealer and his bouncers had stopped them on the way down. Jim didn't know what the men would have done if the agent hadn't mumbled something in Czech, about being away for some time, asking for keeping an eye on his apartment in the meantime, the looks they had thrown the Australian had been pretty unveiled threats though. 

Not one word. The whole evening. Not one. Only tiny nods and shakes of the head.  
Jim didn't expect answers this soon of course. Too soon. He knew Adam that well by now and few others would have been talkative after an ordeal like this either. Still, he had been close to call Dr Auzanne, for getting the help of a professional. Never before Jim had seen the agent withdraw this far. Or had Adam just been better able to hide it, had he not bothered enough before to take a real look and simply not noticed? Where the hell has that steady stoic confidence gone to, that so often had grated on his nerves?  
If not for what little of Adam being present there shrinking away even further at the mere suggestion, he would have fetched the doctor immediately. Instead the director choose to let it rest for the moment. Maybe in a few days, once Adam found some ground back under his feet. In a way it was good the weekend was ahead, giving them a chance to settle into the new situation. At the same time Jim couldn't await to be back to work, where he would be too occupied to constantly worry about this passivity, worse than it ever had been before. The lack of almost any reaction.  
Sitting there staring at the wall. Frozen.  
_Damn you Mac, have you any idea what you have done?_

Even knowing Adam probably couldn't help himself, it stung to have to face those shades again, seeing himself mirrored in the polished glass. Missing how lively, how wholly different the man looked like with them opened, those incredible eyes revealed, how easy they had made it to know what was going on with the agent.  
Hiding them away instead, obviously needing that right now. But the shades at least were better than that full shut down yesterday evening.  
Some spoken words this morning at least, the cereals Jim had in his kitchen being reserved for the kids.  
“They won't visit here any time soon, you can eat them, Adam.” he had sighed, no longer being angry for why the agent even knew about Ethan and Susie. In front of Adam, it neither felt as weak to admit his failures with the kids. To word the truth, he hadn't wanted to accept for so long. Them being lost to him for a long time now.  
Jim had to fill the bowl himself for Jensen to eat, but seeing the tension in the agent's posture starting to relax, as slightly as it was, had been worth the bother. Still, it would need many more sugar sweet loops and more time to fill out those sunken cheeks again.  
_Not just imprisoned, harassed and tortured, no, fucking starved too... God damn, Mac!_

It was a reversal of the past, sort of. Jim wondered if Jensen had been worried like this too, back in that hospital in London, when the director had been the one to recover. The silence, for none of them having the words to talk. But not really uneasy, mostly just quiet company. He hoped it might ground Adam at least a little bit now, help him, like it had Jim back then. An anchor to hold on, when everything else felt like being turned upside down again and again.  
Offering to lend a hand in the kitchen for preparing dinner was the first sign of progress, even if it maybe was just for not being left alone in the other room. At other times that air of being lost engulfing Jensen there might have made him smile and chuckle. Having the strong suspicion it was not entirely about his state of mind after what had happened, but also about really not knowing his way around there, at least not for cooking. The man's own cupboards and fridge hadn't contained anything but alcohol, dubious microwave meals and cereals, had they? But right at this time there, the smile just wouldn't form. Instead he started slow, directing his new flatmate to wash and then cut vegetable into pieces. Explaining what he did and why. It was difficult to tell, but he liked to think Adam had relaxed into the simple routine. The easy company. 

Too damn visible was the man’s tension to him there. The agent putting on that all too well known empty mask of pure professionalism, but Jim still saw the cracks underneath way too clearly. He knew it was too early, but those damn rules of this god damn farce left them no other choice than to head into office only days after-...  
Aria had been a bit startled at the renewed distance, yet caught herself quickly. Jim had to recommend her for neither anger, hurt, nor pity stealing themselves into her look. She just remained friendly and welcomed Adam back. 

It had been a while for the noise at HQ being this loud in his ears. The whispers, the talking. The open stares and hidden glances itching this much, making his skin or what little was left of it crawl. The prospect of having to sit at his desk, under all those eyes was-  
“Where are you going, agent?” Miller stopped him with an arched brow at the top of the stairs, waving him to the left. “Come.”  
It would only delay the inevitable, but gratefully for even that small a respite, Adam followed the director to his office. 

“We'll have to see if it works out like this, if not, there are a few alternatives. The NSN room is rather small, but still an option, or simply arranging the desks differently, bring in an office divider or something like that.”  
Jim had closed the door before addressing the Aug standing there in front of his desk statue-still. Like Jensen had stood there so often before and yet so wholly different. A low sigh was stealing away at the sight and calmly he then started to explain again.  
“Due to the State police's conditions for this-, arrangement, you are stuck with me for the time being, agent. Working as my assistant, my aide, even if I don't know yet what exactly that will entail either. The contents of your locker are over there, everything else that had been on your desk should be here too.“  
Jensen continued to stand there, unmoving, but getting slightly less statuesque at least, so Jim decided to bring everything up on the table now, instead of feeding it to him bit by bit, like he previously had done. Adam apparently having zoned out of those conversations every damn time.  
“Don't know yet who is going to take over your cases in the city, but we should be able to work something out on that front. Desk work shouldn't cause any issues. There's one thing though, I'm really not comfortable with it but don't want to risk State police causing even more trouble. Their new rules say you'll need to be either supervised or confined, so, uhm, I might have to lock you in here occasionally, when there is need for discretion for example.” _Christ... there it is again, that damn awful stillness back in full..._ “And please, Adam, do me the favour to stay here then. We both know that door isn't able to keep you in here. I don't want to lose you to some fucking fine print.” Seeing the agent taking a deep breath, the director exhaled in relief too. “Now, as my assistant you are going to accompany me to meetings of course, so no need to worry about being stuck in here forever. But unfortunately no field work for either of us for the time being, only observing from operations command at most.” Jim hadn't yet been cleared for the field again anyway. Fucking Orchid! “Now, if you don't have any questions, I'd suggest you take a look at your desk and the files and get order back into what Fletcher probably has thrown all together. Then we can figure out what to do with your cases.”

Every time the door opened, he held his breath. Wanted to cloak, to hide.  
Jim was not looking at him, but neither not-looking. No stares, just quick glances while he was talking or arguing on the phone, muttering to himself working on something, looking around to relieve his eyes, getting a short pause from the tedious reports on his screen. Worried, concerned, but neither prying nor actively avoiding him.  
The others stared. Needed to hear the by now rather curt voice of the director asking, what they want, to remember why they had come by. 

Right there, Jim was almost thankful for the rules the Czech and higher ups of Interpol had set. For the doc not being a real part of the Prague Division, that technically she still was considered civilian, not part of the chain of command at all.  
That woman wasn't making Adam just uneasy- Ha! _Uneasy_ , understatement of the century, the way the agent had become so damn utterly still again... The voice so low and bare of emotions, it barely had any substance left...  
“I appreciate your concern Delara, but we have to play by the rules for now. Any sessions will have to wait until Agent Jensen has his status back. It's simply not possible under current circumstances, I can't leave him unsupervised and you can't have me listening in to what there might be talked about. I'll inform you as soon as there are any changes.” He knew he'd have to pay for this later, the psychologist probably running to _Joe_ in no time, the way her face had fallen for a tiny moment, losing that fake smile, showing the extend of her displeasure.  
Didn't matter, Adam was who was important now and Jim would use those damn rules as best as possible to help his agent. They had made him responsible for anything concerning the man after all.  
Still, Adam needed help he couldn't provide, but finding an alternative to Delara would be quite difficult now, since technically he not even had lied to her and after denying her, the chances of getting someone from outside of TF29 approved to work with Adam went towards zero. Something else he'd have to discuss further with his new flatmate. 

Fewer and fewer agents and analysts were coming by the office, the novelty of Jensen's new workplace wearing off. Without those constant interruptions Jim finally started to get some work done, the pile of files on his desk getting visibly smaller. Not that it wouldn't grow back overnight anyway, but it still felt damn productive for once.  
Mac had come by too at one point. All stiff and angry. But for once not saying his usual anti Aug or anti Jensen piece, only mission related. No reaction to the changes except for the short greeting.  
“Jensen.”  
“Sir.”  
Had it been Jim's own anger projected or had Adam really been conveying that much with just one word? Difficult to tell, yet the way the Brit had clenched his teeth, heading back to the CT office...  
_Proud of what you've done, Mac?_

“I'll offer you a deal Jensen.” Jim's blue grey eyes were locked on him, watching him over the dinner table at the Hlvani Street apartment, after a long though pretty one sided discussion about the state of things. _Watch out, there it comes now, the price to pay, the catch..._  
But the tone didn't change, the friendly but serious face remained just the same.  
“I'll do my best to keep Delara off your back and you continue to scare the staff off of bothering me with trivialities.” A wistful smile grew there, matching the warm humour now glittering in those eyes. “Though I don't think even you'd be able to stop Chang, Smiley or Miss Argento from coming by, guess we'll have endure their further interruptions.” Adding an over-dramatic sigh. 

The tug at the corner of the mouth had been small and quick, but it was another sign of the old and real Adam glimpsing through, even though there still were so many unsolved issues. But Adam clearly did not want to talk about those and forcing him wouldn't work. The mere attempt would probably destroy what little trust there had grown between them. So instead Jim went into lining out the schedule for the upcoming weeks, the meetings that were ahead, what his new assistant would have to do there.  
“In essence you are going to follow me around, without the state police or anyone else being able to tell you off. They made these rules themselves after all. So we are going following them to the letter where it suits our needs and stretch them where it doesn't.” Had that been a raised eyebrow there? Difficult to judge with those shades still closed. “Otherwise it's well, assisting, don't know, never really had that before. Making sure I have the necessary papers, treaties, or files with me, not to forget anything? Can't tell how much you might get involved in the actual talks, but I don't intend for you just being decoration that excels in idleness. You are going to do something useful.”  
Adam asking for a few details was a great step forward, Jim decided. 

Jensen clearly was on edge. All the tension the agent had lost over the previous weeks suddenly being back in full. The guard back up, and something else. Fear. So unlike the man he had known before. They were heading to some meetings with the Czech. State secretary, the lion's den so to speak.  
There only had been one patrol checking him, them, since-, all this mess. One advantage of the short distance Jim lived from Praha Dovoz. He quickly had dealt with them, stood between Jensen and those ass-holes. Robbing them of the power they had had over Adam again in an instant.  
As those damn pricks at the state secretary pulled out one of those fucking control collars to put it on Jensen, Jim explicitly ordered his agent to defend himself against any attempts to compromise his ability to do his job. Essentially giving him a free ticket for everything. And god help him, of course he took full responsibility, he trusted Adam not to do anything rash or for revenge. As much as those bastards would deserve it. 

This time, his chuckle definitely had caused a raised eyebrow. So Jim tried to explain the obvious as they drove back home. _When had he started to consider the Hlvani apartment home?_ The thought distracted him for a moment before he quickly shoved it away.  
“Ah, well, me having you under control? Seriously? As if you were ever really following my orders. But better not to let them know that, eh?“  
This evening he was allowed to see those incredible eyes again. Concerned and worried as their haunted look made him, the deep shadows in and beneath them. Learning why, a few days later. Odd that Jim had been sleeping better those days than he had for a long time, while Adam-...  
He found him in the bathroom, on the floor, curled into himself, the breathing erratic, the whole body twitching and flinching at every movement from Jim.  
No estimation of how long it took to bring him back to the present. By just being there. Talking quietly, telling of the dry reports he had read all day, once he ran out of other more meaningful things to say. But no matter the words, Adam clearly had held on to his voice like a lifeline there. And Christ, he would throw it out to him again any time.  
_Damn you Mac, was this what you wanted to achieve?_

More than in the months before, when Agent Jensen slowly had turned into Adam; cautiously opening up after London, especially when it had been only the two of them; spending essentially 24 hours around the American every day now, allowed him to really learn to decipher the man.  
Easier of course when those eye-shields were open, which thank god happened more and more often again, but even closed, Jim now was able to see the signs. Apprehension, annoyance, distrust, suspicion, and yes, still fear too, although it got better.  
The negative aspects usually were easier to spot, since they occurred way more often, but Jim also saw the hints of that quite nice and dry sense of humour blinking up. When he was venting his frustration sometimes. Always hoping there then was one of those sarcastic remarks going through the agent's head, even if he rarely spoke up loud yet. That deep passion, albeit still rather hidden, when it came to the true essence of their job, protecting people.  
Gratitude. When Jim didn't press matters. Accepted Adam wasn't ready to talk. When Aria didn't pry, Chang coincidentally changed topics and Smiley suddenly got distracted.  
The sharpshooter hadn't been a surprise, that the other two were that finely attuned to Jensen, had been. But then, there never had been any issues with them working with Adam before, on the contrary, even before London they had started to request Jensen specifically to help with their problems, despite theoretically being able to ask for any of the field agents of TF29 Prague. As it turned out, unlike many others at HQ, not even in the beginning had they been blinded by fear or prejudices, always simply had accepted as much or as little Adam had been able and willing to give. 

Just how to start? He didn't know, had no clue where to begin. But he wanted to, needed to.  
At one point the words just tumbled out of Adam's mind, out of his mouth, without him knowing if they made any sense. Jim simply listened, looking at him over the chessboard sitting between them once more. Blue grey eyes narrowing or widening at times, surprise, shock, horror, disgust, anger, compassion. That natural hand, he often was so fascinated with ever since his trip into the NSN, moving to take a quick sip of wine, putting the glass down with more force than necessary, but Adam knew by then that anger wasn’t directed at him.  
Except for once. When it was mixed with a weird sadness, with disappointment.  
“Why didn't you just tell me?” A faint memory echoing in his mind, of the same voice cursing about a damn martyr complex, while trying to find out what was wrong with him. Or talking to him back in that kitchen in London. Felt like ages ago. 

He learned more than he ever had wanted to learn about the agent. Sure, Jim long had sought to get to know the man better, yet hadn’t dared to risk getting too close and personal. But this? What a fucked up life even before that recent bullshit had happened.  
Betrayals, conspiracies, secrets. Jensen's whole life seemed to consist of them. At least the parts he was able to tell of, since Jim simply knew this wasn't everything, most likely far from it.  
All the more impressive that Adam still cared this much, that he still went on against those hiding in the shadows. That he had managed to put himself together from all those broken pieces, again and again. That he still was able to trust anyone at all. 

Eventually, they found a routine, a comfortable one even. Adam was a great help dealing with those countless reports and notices, Jim got everyday. The man had an excellent memory for details. Was able to connect various pieces to something whole. Often adding a new perspective.  
The director constantly was wearing an earpiece now, Adam not wanting to draw too much attention by openly giving his opinion at those meetings. Opinions Jim had wanted to know for a while now ( _needed to_ ).  
Used to this additional input, the silence that one time had rung even louder than the suddenly returning stiffness the director had felt standing next to him had. State police officers becoming more aggressive again, now that Chang was close to bust all those damn false accusations and fake evidence, Adam being close to get his freedom back.  
Warnings and threats. Not empty unfortunately. They knew all too well now, the augmented agent hadn't the full support of Interpol, that they merely had to wait for the right moment and he'd have no chance at all. Catching him alone was all they needed. Defending himself, attempting to flee, all would give them reason to arrest him for real then. Last time it had taken Jim weeks to find him and get him released.  
_Damn you Mac have you ever even thought of the consequences?_

They had cornered him, he had been too tired to successfully avoid all of them. Caught. Again.  
The pain hadn't started for real yet, but he couldn't help the trembling.  
Voices arguing viciously, Adam first had thought Jim, but the accent was different. That growl and snarl, hopeless he closed his eyes, he was done for.

More than anything else, seeing Jensen sitting there, on the floor of the transporter, all tense with that bulky electronic collar around his neck, had made Duncan realise just how damn huge his mistake had been.  
“Get that fucking thing off!”  
He was not surprised the agent ignored the offered hand, climbing out of the truck on his own. Nor about the silence that felt so heavy. The distance that was maintained. The obvious and distrustful caution towards himself, as they walked through Prague since Jensen's apartment probably wouldn't be safe this night. Nor any other any longer.  
Jim had looked angry, the cold stare Mac had gotten as the door at Hlvani had been opened, was quite familiar by now. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” Jim rarely lost his temper like that, but there and then, months back at the director's office, nothing would have been able to stop him. “A fucking lesson, damn you Mac, you purposely left one of our own agents in the hands of the state police, who is just waiting for any opportunity to put us in our place. 'Time in a cell to learn to appreciate his privileges'. God damn **BULLSHIT!**  
All you taught him, is his own fucking team leader left him out dry, to harassment and torture for no god damn reason. Cause that is what damn places like that do to Augs, especially someone like him, _**fucking damned torture!**_ What the hell were you thinking, Duncan!”  
Mac knew Jim had been close to punch him there, but instead the Australian had shoved him out of the way and set out to get Jensen back. Since then, any words exchanged between them had been purely work related and only the utmost necessary.  
Deserving.  
He knew that. Ever since he had seen Jensen the first time the Aug had been back to office. His eyes not blind to what he had caused. Out of stubborn, stupid and totally unwarranted pride. Out of fear. Pettiness.  
A lesson, he had thought back then, for the damn insubordinate clank. To learn what the man already had known well enough and way better than Mac himself. How fragile the protection his Interpol ID provided actually was.  
Jim had been absent for a few days, to some conference somewhere. So when Chang had informed Mac as the temporarily stand-in director that the state police had arrested Jensen, insisting the accusations were lies and the evidence being staged, he had done nothing. Had abandoned one of their own. Had destroyed what was necessary for their work.  
Just a few days surely wouldn’t hurt...  
Days that had turned into weeks until Jim and Chang had been able to find Jensen's whereabouts and finally got the Czech to release him.  
A lesson.  
Not thinking of the consequences, neither short nor long term. Not only destroying any trust in a way that was pretty much impossible to repair, but also making the Czech think Jensen was free game now. Despite all the permits and renewed IDs. Ever at risk if they caught him alone, like today. Duncan stopping them this time didn't change that in any way.  
Getting drunk in his own silent apartment later, he couldn't remember if he said the words. He had wanted to, but they were so weak in comparison.  
_'I'm sorry.'_  
Some things just couldn't be undone, no matter how much you wished for. 

Adam was grateful for Jim trying, but he could have told him, it wouldn't work. He didn't know why _they_ still wanted him here in Prague even after the ARC investigation and the failed HR act, after him once more crossing their plans. But he knew there was no chance of transfer and no resignation, no proper leaving TF29 Prague for him. Not with Manderley being in charge, with them pulling the strings.  
To hope they just wanted to keep him out of the way of their next plans would be wishful thinking. He was stuck. Caught in a trap he hadn't found out yet. The alternative would have been to run, to try his luck. But how long would he be able to hide? And in what kind of hole would they throw him next time? Glorified lab rat again? Experiment. Test object.  
And there was Jim, caught up in this too now, drawn in despite Adam having tried so hard to avoid just that. To keep him safe at least, to-  
“All I can offer is to remain my assistant, it worked well, didn't it. If you want to get back into the field outside of team missions, with a few precautions, we will find a way.” said man continued speaking to him.  
The Australian truly had his back. Knew him better than anyone else now, except for maybe a handful people back in Detroit. Adam feared he might endanger Jim even more in staying, but the comfort of being accepted like that also was too precious to say no. He would be there as protection, wouldn't he?  
Not living on his own for the first time in years also had turned out better than expected. It was nice to have someone around, even if it was just to share the thoughtful silence. As weird as it sounded, it was nice to be chastised about leaving used breakfast bowls anywhere but the sink, while at the same time his messiness was accepted to some degree, even though after all those years in the military Jim had quite a different definition of “cleaned and in order”.  
He knew he shouldn't, but it felt so damn right to stay that he agreed with a genuine smile.

Finally the director couldn't deny her the meetings with Jensen any longer. This whole little incident with the State police had delayed their plans immensely, but at the same time now might have opened the perfect opportunity. To test her control, for if the programming still was active. The Aug's use within the Prague division was coming to an end anyway. Time to point him towards the real target, given the control still held.  
Now, who was the better test, the man himself or someone at one of those meetings. _Decisions, decisions..._

Something was wrong. He knew it in an instant. Being familiar enough with Adam to notice the little telltale signs clear as a day. The subtle stiffness, the smooth grace of his movements just not that natural there. A feeling of dread crept up Jim's spine, when he threw the agent a questioning look and not got any answer in return, neither verbal, nor non-verbal.  
Instead Jensen's shield augmentation flared up with a faint golden shine, busting into a golden globe the next moment. ICARUS. Despite having seen it several times now, Jim once more was fascinated with its elegant beauty, even as the golden glow sped towards him. 

It had taken time until the pain registered, too mesmerised the Australian had been with those eyes staring at him. Emerald green like no others he ever had seen, those intricate golden rims. Horror was in there, haunt, yet another kind of fear than those he already had seen in there. Panic. Blank despair. Guilt, sorrow, a silent apology.  
Warmth. Inside his stomach, a smell of blood and singed skin. Adam's right arm blade sunken deep into Jim's gut.  
A faint, strangled whisper.  
“Jim, I-,”and subvocally, “ _you promised..._ ”  
A low fizzle. An almost inaudible sigh. A last breath.  
Those incredible eyes still being locked on his lost their light, the whole body going limp. Crumpling to the ground. Lifeless. Before any of the guards at the meeting had been able to even try to shoot him.

The funeral went down in private two weeks later, or to be precise the memorial ceremony. Since after one day in the morgue, the corpse had gone missing. Vanished into thin air. No one knowing nor seeing anything. Manderley had been furious.  
More people than expected had found their way to the ceremony, to bid their final farewell. An odd mixture.  
Aria of course, Peter Chang and Daniel Fletcher. Brian Rourke.  
An aged man looking like retired military, wearing a grim expression. The father as far as Jim knew. Surrounded by some more people looking like ex soldiers  
Koller, the Czech aug mechanic.  
David Sarif, accompanied by a short haired woman and a long haired man with a ponytail, he remembered from some old pictures of the staff at Sarif industries Adam had had. All three also wearing a rather grim expressions. Especially the ponytail guy had been pale, the mouth drawn into a thin line.  
Jim still had been in pain, stubbornly having come against the doctor's recommendation. But missing this had been out of the question. He didn't say anything as a tanned and calloused hand quickly reached out as he was about to stumble.  
Duncan had come too. 

Delara Auzanne was dead. Found one morning in her cell, poisoned, officially by an unknown substance, but Jim had his own suspicion after watching the surveillance records, Chang had managed to get him. But there was no real trace of what or who was behind all of this. No further answers, nothing other than that she somehow had been able to apply some sort of mental programming, brainwashing Jensen into attempting to kill Jim. Or so he was convinced at least, the official report did not mention that theory either. But then, due to them all being potentially involved, people from other TF29 divisions had investigated.  
Fact was though, Chang secretly had been tracing Jensen's location and infolink connections ever since they finally had found him at that prison, just in case. Noticing the doctor brute-forcing herself into Jensen's system, they had caught her red handed in her TF29 office, repeating some kind of code phrases and the direct order to attack Jim, to kill him.  
With her mysterious death and Jensen's body gone, unfortunately though there were no trails left to follow. Only strings in the shadows, just like those Adam once had told Jim about.

Ten letters carved in stone, a few numbers forming the dates, Jim just wasn't able to pry his eyes away. He would have been dead, if that blade had found organs, would have bled out, if the wound hadn't been cauterised immediately by the metal heating up. It would leave a nasty scar, but he'd live-, was alive.  
Once more Adam had saved him. He didn't waver from that conviction, no matter what other people said. Having seen the man in action often enough to know that blade wouldn't have missed vital organs if he really had wanted Jim dead. There also had been so many more and easier chances, sharing Jim’s home this long.  
After the ceremony, he saw the ponytail guy arguing with the father, throwing up his hands in defeat at the end. The grizzled man then had walked over. They exchanged a few appropriate but somehow too empty niceties, before Arthur Jensen smuggled something small into Jim’s hand, when offering his right for a goodbye. Muttering “He would have wanted you to have this.” 

Some sort of data device. Jim already was back to Hlvani street when he stopped wondering and finally grew the courage to take a closer look. The plug fit perfectly into the console of his TV screen. A second later the shutters had come down, the door mechanism closed with a loud click. Locking him in inside his own apartment. Some sort of electric fizzle before the man from the memorial ceremony had appeared on the big screen. The ponytail guy, Frank Pritchard, ex chief of Cyber security at Sarif Industries, formerly Adam's co-worker. Looking even paler than at the cemetery, tired, the eyes a bit blood shot. No long explanation of what this was about. Only a sneered warning, about not trying to copy or access the data other than for its intended purpose, for it would delete and destroy itself, that there were other safety measures in place to keep those contents secret. That Jim dearly would regret sharing them with anyone.  
Then the pictures had started running.  
Praha Dovoz, it didn't take long to grasp whose viewpoint he was seeing on the screen.  
The first day, the meeting at Jim's office. God damn had Mac been hostile towards Adam there. Jim himself? Not much better, he had to admit with a pang of guilt.  
Memories, no-, _records_. Of everything. Not in a chronological order, but a timestamp in the corner helped with that well enough. 

Adam had told him about his past, bits and pieces. Always reluctant, hesitant, struggling with wording the events, his memories. To see them now was different. To learn how many more secrets, how many more scars or open wounds the man really had carried around with himself. To learn the truth about the attack on Sarif Industries. Seeing the distorted footage of intellicams following the still wholly natural Adam through corridors and laboratories. Fire and smoke. Taking out hostile forces.  
Christ, facing the god damn Tyrants. Surviving being thrown through a glass wall and that shot to the head lost nothing of its intensity by being blurred from medium quality security cameras recording it.  
The recovery, witnessed through Adam’s own eyes. The struggle of finding himself suddenly more machine than flesh. The dark apartment and the alcohol that didn't even do anything for trying to forget any longer. That black gold fist buried in the mirror, again and again.  
Watching what the agent had done when still working for Sarif, that bomb, the hostages, that poor guy with cables connected to his head, crying for help as his own hand had-... Adam following those thin trails like a bloodhound.  
_Manderley had been involved into the investigation of that attack back then?_  
Going up against the damn Tyrants again one by one, and this time winning. Detroit, Hengsha, Montreal, Rifleman Bank station. Singapore. Immunity to the rejection syndrome and all its consequences for Adam. Finding out about Michelle Walthers and White Helix. A child growing up like that-... Christ, he had left out so damn many details back then...  
The real depth of Dr Reeds betrayals. And all those other lies and stabs into the back, a miracle Adam still had been able to trust anyone at all.  
PICUS, TYM, Belltower, the Collective, and Eliza Cassan, an AI?!  
The Incident.  
Panchaea, what the agent had done for all of them there. What really had gone down there. What role the long haired IT tech had played in all of that. What Adam had been ready to sacrifice.  
Surviving the destruction somehow, being captured by those hiding in the shadows.  
Alaska. Another nearly impossible escape. Missing almost a year of memories? Christ!  
Back to Detroit and trying to find place in the new world order.  
Arizona, the PENThouse, those constant pained groans, the view flickering every few moments, had made Jim swear heartily, only now understanding the real extend of the trauma inflicted on Adam. And yet, despite everything thrown against him, the man still had gotten the mission done there. _Jesus, he'd never would have believed how much of it was Jensen, Adam, and not the augmentations..._  
Prague. What the agent had done aside from his official tasks and during them. God damn, Jim hadn't even known the half of it. Thriving to protect and help the innocent. Almost driven.  
Dubai. 

The break-in into his apartment, with the help of Pritchard. Jim couldn't even get angry that there was even more to it than Adam had admitted before, hearing that hacker and Adam first arguing about how deep to dig, what to do with the findings. And then, them pulling the strings for Susie's therapy to happen.  
Jim had sat on his sofa, utterly dumbfounded, numbly watching Jensen stealing the NSN access card and using it, catching Auzanne at Jim's computer.  
Susie was able to laugh again, to live a pain-free life because of-  
The Palisade property bank. _Christ!_ The two Americans breaking into one of the world's most secured facilities, just like that. Again seeing what Adam really was capable of, sneaking through all those security measures as if it were child's play, and the secrets they found in there...  
So damn many secrets, everywhere. Rucker, Marchenko, Manderley, Reed and Page, Janus. All those connections.  
GARM. Being awaited and ambushed, betrayed again, by someone from within TF29 again. The god damn Orchid. Miraculously surviving. Continuing the mission as soon as Adam had been back on his swaying legs, that almost unbelievable stubborn determination.  
Curfew and Martial Law at Prague. The two of them at Jim's office, shouting at each other, the first time he had seen a glimpse of what otherwise had been kept so carefully hidden behind that distant stoicism. Had the agent just been too exhausted to keep that mask in place, or had it been a leap of faith there, the start of trusting Jim with the real Adam persona?  
Infiltrating the Dvali. Smoothly again, without anyone seeing him at all.  
London. Brown and Tarvos security. The kitchen. The other side of that moment, of Jim sitting on the verge of death. Being saved by that incredible man, so damn disobedient, so stubborn, so gentle, forcing him to drink the antidote.  
The confrontation with Marchenko, good god, shooting a fucking plasma beam from that arm. Adam still remaining true to himself even against that kind of monster, going for a non lethal take down. All those injuries and warnings on that HUD, but of course ignoring them, running to save Brown and the delegates. So utterly _Jensen_ , with all Jim had learned from those records and the shared time in this very apartment  
The months after.  
That damn Czech Aug prison. 

A sudden cut to another scene. Some sort of an old workshop.  
The long haired hacker through Adam's eyes. After the Incident, after Alaska from what they were talking about at first. Then the man, white as a sheet, was staring at Jensen, utterly horrified.  
“Don't ask that of me, I-, _not that!_ God damn-, have you any idea how long I've searched for-... Never was able to shut the scanner down-, always hoping-, then after a year-, your GPL signal-, …and now you ask me to _kill you_?” the stammering voice had become shrill there.  
Jensen eyes turned to the ground and back to the pale face, his quiet voice resonating a grave seriousness interlaced with a heart wrenching plea.  
“I'm not asking to kill me, Francis, but to _save_ me. If Sarif's safety measures are as good as you say, this will never happen, but-, I _need to know_. That they can't get control over me, that they can't make me-,” Adam's voice broke there. “I'm damn a living weapon Francis, please make sure it stays out of _their_ hands. At Singapore, for that short moment, they-... Promise me to stop me for good, take me down, shut me off, if-, if I ever lose control. _Please._ ”  
There had been a long silence before the other man finally answered, the back turned to Jensen staring at some screens, the shoulders slumping down in defeat, the voice hollow.  
“I promise to stop you, Adam. And if there really is no way to save you, I'll-, I'll do what you ask.”

Dazed from all those revelations, Jim had stared at the remaining white screen for who knew how long. Just as he had been about to pull himself up and out of the shocked state of mind, planning to get utterly drunk, he realised it actually wasn't an empty screen, there were low noises, clatter of keystrokes on a keyboard, some regular blibs, almost like-...  
Voices started speaking again. Murmurs in the off, a deep sigh and-, the same aged hand that had handed him that device came into view, holding another. One very familiar, of black and gold.  
“He is stable for now, I shut off the offensive augs and scanned him for trackers and any physical manipulations several times, just in case, but even if he hates it, I think it's better to keep him under until we know for sure-.” the voice trailed off. Frank Pritchard, the same voice that had been there with Adam so often, sneering, snapping, bickering, but also supportive, understanding. It was soft there, loaded with both worried sadness and relief.  
“Is it reversible?” Arthur Jensen.  
“Not sure, we need to know how this was done in the first place. Undoing brainwashing is tricky, you know that Ace.” A third voice speaking up.  
“What about a year's worth of data of that damn witch talking to Adam. God, he knew something was off, asking me to stay connected throughout all those sessions!” Pritchard again. 

He didn't know if it had worked, but Jim liked to think it had. That Adam was out there, somewhere. Safe and well. Among his family and friends. Without being hunted for once. Dead to the world, more important, dead to those trying to find and use him. For real this time.  
The Australian liked to think, having found Adam's few belongings being gone from his apartment when he had come out of the hospital, hadn't been TF29 investigators but meant they had been successful.  
There were two weeks left now, before he'd return to Australia. Leaving Interpol, TF29 and all that conspirational mess behind. Set on trying to repair what he had fucked up with the kids, as long he still was alive to try.  
What Mac had done had destroyed their long time friendship and had torn a deep rift through the Central Europe Division, although of course it hadn't had any professional consequences. Just an Aug, why would it matter... One more reason to leave the agency far behind.  
Jim still was ready to admit that the Brit might do better than him though, moving up into the director's chair. His proper and decisive actions when catching that bitch Auzanne red handed and the genuine and relentless efforts to find what was behind all that fucking mess, had redeemed him in the eyes of those that had taken affront for what had happened to Adam. Despite Adam not wanting anyone to know what really had gone down there, Chang had known of course and Aria had guessed well enough. For all his faults, Duncan still was someone able to learn from his mistakes. Something like that wouldn't happen again. Aria and Chang also would make sure of keeping him in check. Especially Aria, Jim had become even more impressed with her when she denied his offer to transfer her elsewhere. Though in the end there was no guarantee elsewhere would be more aug friendly and she had earned her respect among the Prague team by now and knew how to deal with those who might harass her.  
Even though Jim wasn't able to forgive that Adam had had to pay the price, the Prague Division was left in competent hands at least. Hands that wouldn't be that easily manipulated by politics and orders. For all his insistence on the chain of command, Duncan Macready was not someone who'd just follow orders without thinking either. What little that might help against those hiding in the shadows as well as in plain view.  
Jim knew he probably should care more about all of this, but he was too tired, too exhausted, too disillusioned to bother any longer.


	2. Epilog version I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First version of an epilogue, though since it's Valentine's Day, there was some need for more romance and happy end, thus there is a second version too.

It's two and a half years now. Sometimes the ugly scar on his abdomen still itches, feels uncomfortable, though never really hurting. Jim is walking through the streets of Sydney, towards where he is going to meet with his daughter for some talking and a meal out.   
The interactions with Neil remain strained and difficult, they barely are able to remain civil with each other. But he tries. For the kids. For not bringing Ethan and Susie between the front lines. That much they can agree upon at least.   
It had been a slow progress, but he is earning back some of what he has lost there. Susie, his little healthy (did Adam even know how much that meant to him?) sunshine, giving him a second chance now. Ethan had been more reluctant to believe his efforts being genuine. But Adam has taught Jim a different kind of patience. He knows, he can't force this. 

Rounding another corner on his way to the restaurant where his sister was waiting with Susie, he can’t help but-...  
It's not the first time he's got this feeling, that odd sensation, like a tickling just outside of his awareness. He had felt that way at Prague too at times. Followed, observed. Knowing from those records, how often Adam had looked at him too from behind those tinted glasses, followed him at a distance, watching over him and those others, who sometimes had followed Jim too. Making sure he was safe.   
He likes to think ( _dearly hopes_ ) it is Adam again. But he can't be sure if it's not _them_ instead. Even if he wonders, what they'd still want from him these days. Old and retired, when not reconnecting with the kids or his sister, he spends his days with hiking and his bicycle, a small garden. On the long evenings, the nights he can't find sleep, he has started with clock making. It's peaceful, grounding. The tools and small pieces of metal, the always somewhat messy workbench, all reminding him fondly of evenings on the other side of the globe, watching black and gold fingers working so carefully yet adeptly with the delicate cogwheels and parts. The rare proud, but also so real smile appearing in the bearded face, when the ticking turned out regular and proper.   
It's what he misses most, the simple comfort of the other one's presence.   
The temptation is great, to turn around and look, to search for the man that so curiously had been able to hide in plain view. But there also is the possibility, the risk, to spot those others instead. So Jim keeps his eyes straight ahead, only gives in to the renewed urge to rub the scar through his shirt. He likes to believe there has been a happy end for the unusual man he still felt honoured to have gotten to know, to call a friend.   
He doesn't know, but as long that remains the case, he neither knows for the opposite to be true.


	3. Epilogue II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They deserve a happy end!

Coming home after a long day of arguing back and forth with Neil over supporting Ethan's own ideas for his future or not, Jim sighs into the silence of his home. The house is dark and somehow he likes it better that way right now, easily finding his way to the small kitchen table without light.   
His stomach aches both from hunger and the prominent scar reacting to the weather again. Exhausted Jim sags onto the chair that with lights on, would have the best view to the living room. Towards the comfortable couch, the big TV screen, the working desk filled with watchmaking equipment. He didn't know why he had started with it, _or well deep within he does though can't admit it to himself without falling into a too deep and too dark hole_. It was grounding in a way that even hiking or going full out on his bike wasn't. It almost had been as if the house had become home only after the slight chaos of those tiny parts had started to occupy space in there.   
He wasn't as adept working with them as Adam had been, the lingering effects from the Orchid, age and all his other old injuries finally catching up with him, making his hands tremble, his movements unsteady at times.   
Some days he felt so old. Tired. Regretful.   
_Self pitying_ , Neil had thrown had at him today, when his ex had ran out of objective arguments. Nothing new about that habit unfortunately, but even after years it still hurt. Made him wonder about what if-... if he had had the courage, if-, back in Prague-, if he and… if they had... 

Adam always had been an attractive man, but after getting to know his real personality... some days, Jim desperately had had to cling to the last shred of professionalism he had had left when it had come to the younger man. Ending up living at the same apartment even after that mess had been over, they hadn't become lovers, though mostly because of Jim at first not wanting to take advantage of that damn vulnerability after that damn prison and then constantly chastising himself for being unprofessional to wish for giving in to those thoughts and longings that had become so strong after London.   
Adam, who, as he knew by now, had watched Jim ( _and his god damn old ass, especially when he had been wearing his office suit_ ) almost as often as Jim's eyes had been drawn towards the tall and lean man. Adam, who somehow had grown closer to him than Neil ever had been. _Maybe if-, without Interpol-, if they'd met under different-_   
A low growl in his belly pulled him out of that train of thought, little use there was to that sort of regretful brooding anyway. He had missed that chance, hadn't dared to risk-, hadn't found out if Adam opening up to him had meant-... not before it already had been too late.   
With another heavy sigh Jim got up to his feet and switched on the lights. Old and regretful, just like Neil had said. His back was turned to the large dinner table in the living room, about to look at what the fridge held for dinner as _something_ made Jim turn around, not a sight, not a sound, nothing but a _feeling_. Sitting in the light, there was a small box like for wrist-watches on the table, right next to a chess board set ready for a game. A wine glass waiting to be filled and on the other side of the board, a tumbler for- _No_ , it couldn't be, it couldn't! Could it? Was this real or was he dreaming again? Could he dare to- _hope_?  
His knees feeling weaker than the Orchid ever had made them, his throat too dry to speak all of a sudden, but ever the stubborn soldier, Jim forced the word out, the question, uncertain if he was more afraid of there being no answer or of there being one.   
“Adam?” 

Silence answering him, spreading way too long before he heard that voice again, the sound that always had stayed with him in his dreams. That-   
“Jim.”   
One word, one word was enough to make him fall, again, hard. For the man that immediately caught him, saved him from hitting the floor. Those warm, gentle and beautiful hands keeping him steady when everything was turned upside down again.   
“Christ, shocking old people like that!” he couldn't help to grumble once his legs seemed to be able to bear his weight again.   
“You aren't old.” that tone, the one he remembered so well, always wondering if it had been Adam taking those kind of sarcastic or ironic comments too serious and answering with that blunt honesty of his or if he was secretly making fun of Jim.   
Warmth spread inside him, a thrill that he hadn't felt for-, Christ, way too long. Realising, he was able to find out now, quickly stopping the arm that was about to let go of him. He would not miss another chance, he would not pass on this again, he would not-  
There were some more lines than he remembered, the beard, the hair still the same style, those lips tugged into that almost boyish grin that, rare as it had been, always had made Jim feel so young and old at the same time and had so deeply challenged his determination to stay professional.   
Those eyes, green and gold, so incredibly expressive, so deep that he couldn't help sinking into them. Glad to not find any of that fear, of that horror or despair left in them. Instead there was what had been there when they first had looked at him like this, back in that kitchen in London.   
This time he didn't hesitate, grabbing for what he had longed to hold close for so long.   
“Adam, you-, you are-”  
“I'm here, Jim”


End file.
